Body Cues
by ms.j
Summary: What does one do when presented with an arkward situation? Just ask Tom...


Body Cues By Ms. J

And when he turned over in his bed this time, he snuggled closer into his pillow, sighing in a content manner at the dream he was having: A white sandy beach, a clear blue ocean, and a woman sunbathing in an impossible red bikini… he reached out to this dream girl to hold her closer, whispering something akin to sweet nothings…and she sighed back, snuggling closer into him…his eyes flew open.

Either the dream was _that good_ or he just inhaled the scent of flowery smelling shampoo.

He looked up, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light.

He turned Doug down for partying at some new nightclub in town last night, turned Ioki's request down for a poker game with some of the other guys at the station, and ignored any phone calls he got at the apartment because she called first… he sat up in his bed, pulling the sheets back some…He nearly fell off the bed.

The "pillow" he snuggled with had soft curly ebony hair and chocolate colored skin.

* * *

Alarm bells went off in his head.

What was Judy doing here? In here? His room? What happened?

Tom lay back down, staring at the ceiling for an answer. He had to calm the runaway train of his thinking… She called him last night, asked if she could crash on his couch.

He didn't ask any questions, told her to come over. They watched some old movies. She fell asleep on the couch. He left the room. She did this for the last two weeks. It had become normal.

Nervous, he peeled the sheets back more_. Please let me be clothed, please let me be clothed_… he nearly shouted to the rooftops, relieved. He still had on the old faded yellow t-shirt, still had on his socks, and still (most importantly) had on his boxes. Her shirt looked wrinkled from hard sleep, the tights complementing the color of her skin. Okay, that was one mystery solved.

She turned over again, placing a hand on his chest while exhaling softly. He didn't move a muscle. His skin pricked in attention. Now she was blinking, her brown eyes focusing on him.

"Hey," she said as if this was the most normal thing in the world, waking up in bed with him.

"Heyyyy…" He nearly swallowed his tongue.

"What time is it?" She yawned like a sleepy kitten.

He glanced at his alarm clock, "After nine."

"In the morning!" She cried, slapping a hand to her head, "We're late!"

She made a motion to get out of bed but he pulled her back gently, "It's Saturday. The only thing we're late for are bad reruns on TV and breakfast."

"I thought we had a case…"

"Closed it a few days ago. Fuller told us to take the weekend off and relax."

He laughed inwardly. _Relax, yeah right_. Relax was exactly what he wasn't right now at this moment with Judy still in very much close proximity of him—in his boxers.

His mind still couldn't wrap around the transition from watching B rated spy movies in the living room to waking up together. They were drier than two reformed drunks in Sunday morning church, no beers or nothing passed their lips last night.

"I've lost complete track of time, haven't I?" She remarked in a sheepish tone.

_I'm trying to keep from passing out here_. "We've had a hard couple of weeks on the job."

She lay back down, grabbing a pillow. "Guess I'll get comfortable."

_As you continue to make me uncomfortable_, "You didn't want to sleep on the couch last night?"

"Not when my back started hurting," A small smile crept on her face as she turned back toward him, "Your bed is soft."

He blanched. He did not want his friend telling him something like that. Especially in some low sexy tone… unless he was imagining things. Great now he was imagine things, going crazy after one night that was more innocence than it appeared...

Tom forced himself to calm down. _So what? She slept in the same bed with you, big deal._

_Not when she's hot too_, he could hear his rationality arguing with his masculinity.

This was bad. Real bad. The blood rushed from his head, he felt dizzy. How could he tell her that she was the catalyst for a dream involving making love on a South Pacific beach?

* * *

"Okay, be straight with me—why have you been sleeping here the last two weeks?" He bolted back up, more for his benefit than hers. More of a move to get his hormones in check but he hoped that it was a signal for her to come clean.

He had to change the subject, change the subject at least for himself… another subject bounced around in his mind like pinball, a touchy one he dared not want to brooch.

Besides, she was a good friend and his colleague. Someone he worried about often, especially since the last time she stayed over, when he found out about the bastard who hurt her…

"I can't hang out with you without a motive?" She sat up again, back resting against the headboard. But he noticed she stared at her hands. In an interrogation, he could pick up on this as lying. Here, he figured she was too nervous to share, possibly too ashamed.

"Come on, Jude, try that on someone else. This is me you're talking to."

She rolled her eyes, "It—it just sounds stupid."

"Lay it on me." _Bad word choice, bad word choice._

She sighed, chewing her lip slightly, "I thought about Evan."

_Son of a…_ "Okay."

"I know it's been weeks since the trial and his conviction and—and—and I feel like I've moved on but…"

"I don't expect you to just wake up and be normal."

"But I should be! I should be able to sleep at night now, live my life—!"

"No, you shouldn't," he huffed, "You need time for something like that to heal…"

"I'm tired of being a victim."

"Don't act it then…just—just take one day at a time, okay?"

"Why do you make this sound easy?"

"Exactly, it sounds easy. I remember some wise person telling me the same thing. You know, letting go of things—"

"That was different," She remarked with a frown, "Amy passed."

Silence moved in as they both found some interesting empty space to stare in. Amy was a sore subject for him still even after a year. Didn't he expect himself to just wake up and feel better too? To snap out of the cyclic angry and madness?

"I'm sorry for going there about Amy…" She placed her head on her knees, pulling herself into a protective ball.

He waved a dismissive hand, "It's okay. I know you mean well."

"I felt—still feel like I lost my control," she began talking again. "I say things to myself like 'I should've went home' or 'I should've met Tom later in the quad…'"

"Or 'I should have picked another convenient store, 'I should have been able to stop a mad gunman because I am a cop."

"We're pathetic aren't we?" She attempted to add humor, "thinking about stuff we can't change." Judy wiped a tear from her eye.

He wanted to say something else, opting instead to pull his friend into a quiet embrace.

* * *

The second time he opened his eyes up, he managed not to go into cardiac arrest. They had slipped back under the covers, curled up together and slept. A conscience decision they both made... He turned his head. The clock now said noon. He checked his mental day planner: maybe he would do a little bowling at the alley then meeting up with Doug later to hear about all the women that turned him down the night before. Maybe he would see Ioki to hear how much money he lost in the card game… Judy had her head back on his chest, an arm flung around his waist. She looked more peaceful. That's all he wanted really, to see her at peace especially after Evan shook up her world. The nerve of that jerk saying they made love! Making love to her wouldn't be forced. It would be a declaration of love, something slow and careful, a task only carried out by a man caring enough to understand her…

_Hanson, you're getting too comfortable here. _

Good point he agreed with himself reluctantly. Eventually she would have to get up and go home. Her home, the apartment across town, away from him and his soft bed.

Somehow, that thought produced disappointment. Not that he wanted anything to happen that they would regret...

Somewhere the less rational man laughed: _Yeah right, you want something to happen. You want her to stay longer, maybe even all night again. You're looking for an excuse to keep her here._

And what if he was, he thought. _If she was to stay, she can stay._

_And then what?_

Ooh, a dangerous question.

They could… hit the video store again. He could make dinner… if Top Ramen and cola qualified as dinner. They could finally talk. She could get everything off of her chest.

_Drop it, Hanson, it's not the only thing you want to come off of her._

He groaned, hand covering his eyes.

"What's wrong?" A sleepy voice next to him asked.

He turned his head to see Judy looking back at him, her head lying on her hands.

_What's wrong? The fact that I feel something I can't deny much longer_. "Nothing. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you—"

"Something is bothering you."

"It's…nothing…" He resumed staring at the ceiling.

"Well, that 'nothing' is making you toss and turn in your sleep. You slept like a baby hours before." She yawned again, twitching her nose.

"You noticed?"

"I notice a lot of things about you, Hanson."

He tried not to over analyze this statement. If she picked up on that, what else did she notice? That he was trying to put a foot of space between them so it wouldn't be so obvious he was into her? That he couldn't hide his feelings for her much longer? If he ever—ever!—got the chance to express his feelings, he didn't want it to be because of reasons born out of her vulnerability but his genuine love for her as someone he called about. There were three times of women men had in their lives—girls who were friends, girlfriends, and the ONE. And somewhere in the last four years, Judy Hoffs moved up in the ranks rather quickly. There were other girls who were friends and he had his share of girlfriends yet the woman next to him… there was only one true category she could occupy… he didn't want her to occupy some errant dream, she deserved top rung of the love ladder—golden wedding band and all.

Tom turned toward her, watching an eyebrow raise on her face, "I gotta be straight with you about something…" His voice turned thicker than popcorn butter.

"Sure, wassup? You can tell me. We're friends, right?" Her brown eyes pulled him, giving equal fear and boldness to go through with the next step.

Deciding that he had stalled enough for four year, Tom Hanson pulled Judy into an embrace so that his lips would communicate all those feelings at once without getting lost in the complex details of verbal words.

Kisses were normally straight forward, right?


End file.
